


Fall In Line

by Monkeygirl77



Series: Grumpy (Sometimes) But Kind Raphael [17]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Azrael and Raphael are close, Azrael doesn't like Gabriel, Azrael gives him three days, Azrael is a Badass, Azrael was created by Death and The Empty, Azrael's allegiance isn't free, Bargaining, Chuck is a douche, Chuck wants Azrael on his side, Death is a good parent, Gabriel is a douche, Gabriel makes an offer, He's not one of Chuck's pawns, Or Castiel, Or the Winchesters, Reunited and It Feels So Good, The Empty is older then God, The Empty likes one (1) person, They are fed up with his shit, They don't mind being woken up by one (1) person, They have to find Raphael, end of the world as we know it, he's generous like that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:53:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27358333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monkeygirl77/pseuds/Monkeygirl77
Summary: "I'm sure by now that you've heard of Dad's move?" he nodded and the other archangel continued, "We came seeking your assistance, if we are to stand a chance against Him we need someone created outside of His game, and—" He stopped him with a raised hand, "I will not help you, Gabriel, for I do not care about this world. I will move on to the next."
Relationships: Azrael & Raphael
Series: Grumpy (Sometimes) But Kind Raphael [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2128185
Comments: 7
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

He knew it the moment that their Father had decided to call it The End on Earth, he felt the shift in the wind, he felt the power changing in the currents, he felt the souls he had long since reaped reappear as though they had never been reaped in the first place.

And yet, with all of the chaos he knew to be unfolding around him, the cares he could give for the tragedy were close to bottom of his glass. He ran his finger over the rim of the sweaty glass, creating a simple ring for a soft moment, and closed his eyes. The sweet calls of the souls overwhelmed him a moment. There was a ring of condensation gathering on the white napkin that his glass at atop of, and he lifted it slowly, twirling the contents softly with a gentle rotation of his wrist, and he brought the glass to rest on his lips to drink the rest of his cares away.

Staring into the empty cup, he sighed deeply, setting it down once more in the circle of sweat created in the center of the napkin it had been set on and stood from his chair.

It was a local gathering place, where the fisherman and young ones met, the end of the road bar that only the locals knew the trek to. Though the management welcomed outsiders, those sort were few and far in between, and they were just as happy to serve the local population as they were any possible visitors. It was a small place, out of the way of the town itself, among the hills and snow drifts. A place where everyone knew one another, and if they met a new face, then that was just as well.

The place was lightly packed, two tenders behind the bar, a fire raging and cracking in old brick fireplace along the farther wall, snow and wind beating at the old glass windows.

Chatter filled the silence softly, drowning out the silence of those there for more personal of reasons, and the chatter was soft, rolling evenly with the hissing and crackling from the wood burning orange and red. It was warm, not too much so, just the right amount. Groups were gathered, a few couples spread among the outer tables, and in the corner sat a lone man. Hidden among the shadows, where the pale lighting didn't quite reach, only enough to give him presence. He sat leaning back in his chair, not watching any one person in particular, swirling the ice in his glass softly. Silver eyes flashed in the soft candle light from his table, illuminating a youthful face, the slight curve in his pale lips, the shadows dancing across his face, obscuring his identity, though he was doubtful anyone in this lone desolate place knew who he was exactly, but some would sooner then they'd hope to.

He stood from his chair, reaching for his glass once more, and moved with the silent sort of fluidity that was unseen. None in the small town tavern heard him steps, nor noticed him move around them for the bar, and he sat his glass down on the top of the polished wooden surface. He raised a finger to the barkeeper, _another glass please_ , and the human nodded as he reached for the golden liquid over his shoulder and to the left, pulled the stopper out, and refilled his glass.

"More ice?"

"Yes." He answered simple one worded answers and it was not even blinked at in this establishment, people came to celebrate or talk to one another, some came to just watch the evening turn to night in silence, and the barkeep nodded, "Four please."

The human raised an eyebrow at the specific number, a number that meant something much deeper then the human could ever understanding, but didn't ask on it as he fished four cubes from his freezer and plopped them into his glass.

He nodded in thanks, taking his cup back, turning to return to his seat. The glass met his lips for the first sip of the bitter beverage, and he humored himself, the chaos had yet to reach the town he was in, but it soon would, none would be spared from his Father's childish tantrum.

There was a soft ringing, the bell above the door, ringing as another body filled the crowded space, followed by three more. Some, the unlucky few who were not so fortunate to get a set further away from the entrance, glared at the group that entered from the blizzard outside, letting the cold surge into their place of warmth. There was a soft apology, murmured under ones breath as though embarrassed by the action alone, he pushed the crowd of them in further and shut the door behind him with another soft apology, though the others who had been angered had already forgotten the matter as they turned back to their conversations and card games. The warmth of the room, from the blazing fire at the front end, overpowered the cold and fought it away with arms raised in triumph. The shortest of the crew, brushing a few fingers from his blonde-brown hair, golden colored eyes roamed over the crowd, and he knew it to be in search of him. It took him a moment to find who he sought after and when he had, instructed the group forward, and he sat back in his chair, one arm extended as he refused to let go of his glass.

He hummed, meeting the golden gaze for the briefest of moments, and took a sip from his bitter drink, setting the glass back on the ringed napkin.

The one with the golden eyes murmured something to the three behind him, and though they looked objected to it, they complied as he stepped forward on his own to stand at the opposing side of the table.

"Brother."

He smiled, a twisted bit of a thing, and took another drink, "I think we're beyond those titles, Gabriel."

The other man, shorter then the one he addressed, faltered slightly. He knew, after all, why wouldn't he, of the death of their older brother and by his hands, as indirectly as it may have been, he had died broken hearted. There would have been no peace for him.

"Okay…..Mind if we join you?"

He hummed, "I do, actually, but when has someone's objection stopped you." Gabriel faltered again, his mind reeling at the attitude he was receiving, at the cold shoulder. But he sat, and motioned for the others to join them, as he twirled the golden liquid in his glass once more.

The three of the them stared at him as though he were a mystery to figure out, and it brought a smile to light his features, and his older brother watched him carefully.

"What do you want of me?"

"I'm sure by now that you've heard of Dad's move?" he nodded and the other archangel continued, "We can seeking your assistance, if we are to stand a chance against Him we need someone created outside of His game, and—"

He stopped him with a raised hand, "The _cancer_ ," he smiled at the flinch it produced from the Messenger, "Was created outside of His hand." The other three were confused, so for their benefit, he elaborated, "He was created by the hands of the Darkness, in resemblance of Her Brother, a gift if you will."

"But he's—"

"He is not dead." He choose to ignore the exaggerated groan from the short man on the left of him, "But he will not play the game any longer. The chosen villain has walked off the chess board. Tell me, Gabriel," He turned to look at the other archangel, taking a sip from his glass, "Why do you think He forced the Cancer into the cage?"

"He destroyed humanity."

He shook his head, "No, you see, he _freed_ them. He gave them their free will, he knew, as so very few did, what Father's true nature was like, and when He knew that, He couldn't take the fact that there was something in His story that He couldn't control, so, like the Darkness, He locked him away." He gesture around the bar, "We did you think I was banished to roam the Earth? I had done nothing wrong. I was created outside of His hands, as you said, by the hands of Void. I am nothingness. I am the end."

"Azrael—"

"I will not help you, _brother_." He leaned forward in his seat, "Gather your false friends, and leave my sight, you broke our brothers heart, and you friend here killed him, the only reason you seek us out now is because you have need of us."

"You're a coward."

He shrugged, "This world will end and I will move on to the next one, our older brother will move on to the next one." He smiled as he realized the irony of it, "You call me the coward. But it was you who willingly left your flock to avoid war. I was written as feared death, you were written as the coward, by the greatest Writer of them all."


	2. Chapter 2

When it appears, they aren't going to be leaving him to his peace, he heaves a soft sigh, and lifts his glass up, pressing the edge to his lips, and takes a sip of the bitter drink. He turns his attention from the older archangel, eyeing the ones he brought with him, bringing them within mere feet of him was an insult, a slap to the face, but he'll let it slide, for the moment, he's in a rather even mood.

His silver eyes land on one being, the seraph, who's plans for the greater good always seem to align with what his humans ask of him. "Hello, Castiel."

The younger angel eyes him wearily, as he should, and nods lightly in a respectful greeting, at least he knew that much. "Azrael."

He lowers his glass, swirling the contents around, and sets it back down on the napkin, matching the outline with the edges perfectly. "I see you've cleaned yourself up, how pleasant." He rubs a finger over his lip, catching a drop of his bitter drink, and rubs his thumb and forefinger together as he lowers his hand back down to rest on the table top, rubbing his fingers together still. "First, it was the Leviathan, that was a swell time, I was a very busy man through out all that." He frowns lightly, though his silver eyes twinkle with amusement. "Then, you soiled yourself allying yourself with a demon, an uppity sort, thinking he could ever handle the Throne of Hell. You killed my brother."

One of the humans butts in, he doesn't spare them a single glance, staring into his younger brother's blue eyes, but his forefinger and thumb fall still. "Raphael was a girl when he died."

"Yes, I noticed, thank you, Dean Winchester, for the reminder." He tilts his head slightly. "Shanice was the only vessel available in Raphael's bloodline, my brother will take any vessel when he is needed on Earth, he has no preference, but he prefers male pronouns." He nods slightly to the Seraph. "He had some choice words for you." He smiles lightly. "Then, a mad dog spell by a lowly witch, not even a part of a high coven, how embarrassing, to be so weak. I think it's rather poetic that His favorites all become empty shells." He curls his fingers around his glass, raising it back to his lips, and takes another sip. "Many have crossed my path by your hand, it is a wonder why you're not more afraid then you are, some of them were quite vindictive in their grievance, with Father bringing everyone back for His grand finale, I'd be a bit more cautious to those who might come to seek vengeance." The older angel sets his glass back down on his napkin and leans back in his chair. "You killed my reaper."

"Billie Death now, she lived."

"No, Castiel, I am Death, now." Azrael looks down to his golden drink for a moment. "I gave her the mantle of carrying out my duty for me. But I am still her boss, I can take it back whenever I please to."

His eyes return to the archangel sitting across from him, and a smile ghosts over his features when the elder angel squirms slightly under his intense stare. "Do you think Gabriel will protect you?" He tilts his head and clicks his tongue. "He could hardly protect you from a measly fairy, where he stands now, that's why he's hoping to get all the big players on his side, he has no fire power left to fight with."

Azrael raises his hand, he wants a refill, and looks to his companions. "Would you care for a drink?" A waitress comes, takes their orders, and leaves to fulfill them. "You are not the only one egging for me to join your cause. _Chuck_ came to see me some days ago, He gave a very convincing offer, what can you offer me in return for my alliance?"

"Saving humanity should be enough for you." The older hunter growls lowly, as though to appear threatening, perhaps to others he was, Azrael could swat him as easily as one could swat a fly. "You're an angel, aren't you, isn't protecting humanity your mission or something!"

"Ah, arrogant human, I am the angel of _Death_. I only see the humans when they _die_. I have no sentimental attachment to the human race. Why should I break a sweat for it?" Azrael nods at the waitress as she returns and sets their drinks down. "So, I repeat, what can you offer me?" He takes a test sip, he ordered something new, and hums in pleasure as he takes another. "My services aren't free of charge."

Gabriel glares down at his drink. "You wouldn't be asking for payment if it was Raph sitting here asking for your help."

"Raphael would not _ask_. He'd _expect_ me to help him, and I would, because I happen to _like_ him."

"But you won't help me?"

Azrael sets his glass down, stirring the straw around softly, watching the colors swirl around and around. "I _don't_ like you."

"So, you and the ninja turtle were close, then?"

He ignores the older hunter and turns his attention to the younger. "Hello, Samuel Winchester, it's nice to see you in one piece." Sam Winchester looks down to his drink pointedly, stirring it tensely, and he sighs, perhaps he's not one for conversation. "Cat got your tongue?"

"You don't talk to him! You talk to me!"

He sighs in annoyance and turns a dull glance to the elder hunter. "Dean Winchester, you witless ape, if I wanted to dilute my intelligence by attempting to hold an intelligent conversation with you, I'd need a few more drinks, perhaps something of the stronger variety." He raises a hand and mimes a zipping motion. "Please, cease your mindless chatter."

Dean Winchester's face grows red, but the younger brother elbows him in the side and their seraph sends him a muted glare, and he swallows whatever he was going to say with a chug of his beer. So unrefined.

Azrael turns his attention back to the Messenger. "Chuck offered me my own world, what can you offer me, Gabriel?"

The Messenger purses his lips and takes a tense sip of his sweet drink. "I don't have anything to offer you."

"Pity. It seems my decision has been made for me, what I would want with my own world, I don't know, but it's something more then you have."

"Wait, no, I can think of something."

"Think fast, I won't humor you for much longer."

Gabriel takes another sip of his drink. "If it was Raph who came to you for help, you'd give it to him."

The younger archangel takes a sip of his drink, swirling the contents around, and takes another sip. "Yes, I would."

The Messenger sets his glass down on the table. "Then, I'll find him, you've always been closest to him, my offer is your reunion."

"Hmm, tempting, very tempting." He circles his finger around the rim of his glass. "I would like to be with him again, I do miss him, very much." He smiles at them, it shows itself as a kind smile, but it's much too sharp. "You have three days."

"Three days! I don't even know where to _start_ looking!"

"Then, if I were you, I'd get to work."


	3. Chapter 3

They don’t even know where to being looking for the third born Archangel, they notice no unusual lightning storms, not out of normal weather phenomenon, everything in the world is as it should be, other then the obvious. Gabriel tries scrying for the older Archangel as much as he can, using what little grace he has, to no avail. His brother had always been tricky like that, even more tricky then him, if he didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be.

Strange activity does start to go noticed a day and a half in, medical miracles, in a small hospital in some remote village in Africa. Gabriel recognizes the signature of the miracles being recorded, and nods, for sure, that’s him, that’s who they’re looking for.

…

The hospital isn’t much, a small building, no glass in the windows, but curtains keep the dust from getting in, too much. The fan themselves as they step into the waiting room, familiar blue eyes meet his, not the ones he’s looking for, but a close second.

Gabriel takes a step forward and they take a step back. “Isa, is your dad here?”

The Nephilim glares at him, shaking his head mutely, and takes another step back.

He takes another step forward. “Isa, please, I need to talk to your dad.”

“Isa,” a new voice comes into their one-sided conversation, he recognizes it, it’s not his brother’s voice, but his second in command. Oren regards him harshly, pulling the boy back by the shoulder, the Nephilim turns to look up at him mutely. “Go to your father.”

Isa nods mutely, darting off behind him, disappearing down the hall.

“What do you want, Gabriel?” Oren eyes them all harshly, his eyes a blaze with anger, they stray on Castiel for a long moment, and the seraph averts his eyes under his intense stare. “We’ve been here for some time, and yet you only come now.”

The Messenger huffs, they don’t have time for this, and raises his chin slightly. “I need to speak to my brother.”

“He doesn’t wish to speak to you.”

He narrows his eyes. “I wasn’t asking for your permission. You may be my brothers Captain, but I’m still an Archangel, I need to speak to my brother.”

Oren gives him the stink eye. “You’re a disgrace for an Archangel.” He spits at him, spitting at his feet distastefully, and Gabriel bristles slightly at the disrespect, the keen eye of the healer doesn’t miss this. “If you wish to fight me, we may go, where you stand, you’re about as powerful as that heretic behind you is. I could wipe the floor with you.”

“I don’t have time for this nonsense, Oren, I am ordering you to take me to my brother.”

Oren glares at him, but he can’t deny an order from an Archangel, and they both know that, no matter how weak Gabriel may be. “Fine.” He turns, waving for them to follow, and leads them down a hallway, they follow, looking in the rooms, other healers look at them as they pass. He leads them down the hall to a small office at the end, and opens the door, giving introduction to their arrival.

A deep voice responds. “Let them in, Oren, I will see them.”

The Virtues Captain nods, stepping aside, and they shuffle into the small office. The windows are open, and the breeze cools the room, their eyes lock onto their query, standing behind the desk across from them, the door closes behind them, and emerald eyes take them in critically.

“Raph—”

“Gabriel, it’s been some time, imagine my surprise to learn you were not dead.” He swallows, his brother’s tone cuts deep, he’s displeased to see him. The Nephilim glares at him hotly, his cheek pressed to his father’s chest, turning his head slightly to let his glare be seen, his arms curled around the third born archangel tightly. The Healers large right-hand curls around his opposite cheek, turning him back around, pressing his head against his chest, his other arm curled around his back. “Forgive my son, he is not keen on seeing Castiel, he rather him not be here, for obvious reasons.” He settles a harsh stare on the seraph behind the Messenger. “He has not forgotten his father’s death at his hands.” The seraph has the decency to look ashamed.

He turns his attention back to his brother. “What do you want from me, Gabriel?”

“Raph, we need you to come with us.”

Raphael tilts his head, scratching lightly between the Nephilim’s curls, and hums deep in his chest. “As your prisoner, I think not.”

“No, no,” Gabriel steps forward, falling short at the glare his brother settles on him, and comes to a stop just a pace forward. “We need Azrael to—”

“Ah, you merely want me there so you can gain Azrael’s allegiance.” He leans forward slightly, bending just an inch, to press a kiss to the nephilim’s head. “I am happy here, Gabriel, I am a _healer_ again. I am helping so many people. I am _happy_. Would you take that from me?”

“Raph, we need—”

“You _would_.” His brothers tone indicates he’d already suspected that. “You would have me forfeit my happiness for your own sake. As long as Gabriel gets his way, it matters not for what it does to anyone else, as long as Gabriel has his happiness, it does not matter from whom he stole it from.”

Dean Winchester steps forward, attempting to appear intimidating, but comes to a stand next to the Messenger at the glare aimed at him. “The fate of the world is at stake here, man!”

“Yours. Not mine. I will move on to the next.”

“You’re one of his pawns, we all are, but especially you!” The older hunter throws his arm out. “Your world will end just as much as everyone else’s would!”

“That would be your fault in thinking, Winchester.” Raphael smiles down at the Nephilim, Isa turns to look up at him, and he touches a finger to the tip of his nose lightly, before burying his fingers back in the boy’s curls, and he turns back into his chest. “My son is my world. Chuck would never think to take me from creation, I am the one who keeps Azrael under control, not him. I only do so as long as my son stays with me, he would never dare to take my son from me, and I only allow those closest to me to protect my son, he would never take my Virtues from me.” He looks back up at them. “Chuck thinks he holds all the cards in this petty game of his, but he does not, _I_ hold all the cards. Azrael can reap Chuck, he merely chooses not to, Chuck leaves him be, and Azrael pretends he does not exist. The oldest primordial being will do anything Azrael asks of them, The Empty, they are the only one who can defeat Chuck, they are the oldest, from them, Chuck and Amara came, and to them, they can be returned. Azrael is the most dangerous weapon to hold, and _I_ control that weapon, that weapon only listens to _me_. Chuck would never dare do anything but appease me, for he knows, if I were to tell Azrael to reap him, he would do it.” He closes his eyes a moment, before opening them, they spark for a moment, electric blue, before fading back to their normal emerald green. “So, I will move on to the next world, my son will move on with me, and those I hold closest. I will mourn the loss of my healers, but there will be more, it sounds callous, I know, but this is not the first world I’ve made into my home.”

Sam Winchester steps forward, his eyes widened. “You mean—”

“This is not the first world to be destroyed, there have been many, we Archangels have been through a number of them.”

Gabriel frowns deeply, this doesn’t make sense, his brother must be lying, but then, he’s never known Raphael to tell a lie. “I don’t remember any other worlds.”

“That is because you are a part of this one. There have been a number of Gabriel’s, not all the same, but close.” Raphael regards them critically. “Michael and Lucifer were created by Amara’s hand, as a gift to him, they cannot be foiled by Chuck’s plans, if he were to take them from her, she would turn on him, so he leaves them be, he keeps them appeased. Michael and Lucifer know the spell he used to bind Amara, they know how to perform it, but they don’t, because Chuck appeases them. Michael will leave him be so long as he lets him have who he’s closest to, his Powers will move on to the next world with him, and any they induct into their ranks. Lucifer truly cares for one soul, his son, Jack Kline, despite what he might think of his father, and his Grigori. Chuck would never dare take his son from him, nor his Grigori, he appeases Lucifer now, and Lucifer ignores him.”

“Raph, I told Az I’d bring you to him.” Gabriel is still absorbing that there’s been more then one of him. “If you don’t come with us, he’s going to ally himself with Chuck, and destroy this world and everything in it. He might turn on you, if you don’t come with us, and then Chuck would have no need for you.”

“Ah, no, he may say he will, but Azrael would never betray me.” The Healer shakes his head. “Even if he were to ally himself with Chuck, he wouldn’t listen to any orders he might give him, he only listens to mine.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because, Gabriel, unlike what he may lead you to believe, Chuck cannot destroy the world in a simple snap of his fingers. He’s always ingrained himself into his creations, he would first have to extract himself, and that would take time.” He hums softly, squeezing his son lightly, scratching at his scalp. “Azrael knows I would find him. He fears only two things. My temper and my staff, rightfully so, both are quite bad when used in sync.” They all stare at him and he sighs deeply. “I raised Azrael, he knows, if he were to ever turn against me, that I would hunt him down, and, even if was the last thing I ever did in creation, he knows I would beat him until he could not sit comfortably for an _eon_. I know I never have to worry about him turning on me, as he would never dare tempt that outcome, he knows it to be true even without it ever coming to pass.”

“Raph, please.”

He feels himself crack when his older brother shakes his head. “I am happy here, Gabriel, surrounded by my Virtues, my son within my reach, helping people, as was my purpose. I will not forfeit my happiness for your sake.”


	4. Chapter 4

“You had three days.” He twirls noodles around his fork slowly. “Did you waste them?”

The two hunters shift, but say nothing, Castiel swallows thickly, looking to the Archangel they have on their side. Gabriel grits his teeth, looking down at the breadsticks, anger boiling under his skin, though he keeps it reserved, he’s no match for Azrael, even when he’s at full power, he knows it’s best not to tempt the younger Archangel’s temper. “No, we didn’t.”

Azrael slides the fork full of noodles in his mouth, humming softly as he chews, swallowing lightly. “Yet, you returned empty handed.” He reaches for a warm breadstick, dipping up the pasta sauce on his plate, biting off the end, he chew softly, and swallows. “You did not keep your end of our bargain.”

The Messenger looks up at him. “We did find Raph, he’s in Africa, working at a small hospital.”

“I know he is.” The Archangel of Death reaches for his drink and takes a sip through the straw, before setting it back down, and returning to his pasta dish, twirling more noodles around his fork. “I have to see him once a month. Let’s say, to check in.”

“So, you’ve seen him, and you won’t help us because we can’t get him to come see you?”

Azrael smiles, looking up from his noodles. “Yes.” And lifts the fork up to his mouth. “Death can be a _bitch_ , can’t it?”

Dean Winchester huffs. “So, what, you’re gonna help Chuck then?”

“Well, seeing as how my price wasn’t paid, I’ll go with the next best offer.”

Sam Winchester clear his throat lightly. “Raphael said you’d never betray him. Wouldn’t siding with Chuck be betraying him?”

The younger Archangel smiles, looking up at him, wiping at his mouth lightly with his napkin, gesturing to the breadsticks. “Have one, they are quite appetizing.” He sets his napkin down. “I only follow Raphael’s orders, I would _‘help’_ Chuck because watching Him flounder for a sense of control is amusing, I would _never_ think to disobey nor betray the Healer, do you _know_ what he would do to me if I did?” He slips his fork full of noodles in his mouth. “There are only three things I fear; my fathers, my older brothers temper, and his staff, those last especially when they’re used in unison with each other.”

Sam takes a breadstick, hesitantly, when Gabriel nods for him to do so. “You fathers?”

Azrael nods, reaching for his drink again. “Death and Void. They made me who I am, they are my creators, they are my fathers.”

Dean takes a breadstick too. “But, ninja turtle said he raised you.”

“He did,” the Archangel nods lightly. “Death has a fulltime job and the Void sleeps, they gave me to the Healer. God, or Chuck, as He prefers to go by now, had no say in the matter. For all intents and purposes, the Healer is my third father.”

He sticks his fork in a meatball and sticks it in his mouth silently, humming as he chews, and swallows silently. “It’s too bad you couldn’t keep your end of our bargain, much too bad.”

Gabriel clears his throat, reaching for a breadstick himself, taking a small bite, as though testing the waters, per say, it was a good breadstick. “You would let all those innocent lives perish from sheer stubbornness?”

“Life has no meaning to me.” Azrael looks up from his meal, the twirling of noodles coming to a pause, to stare at the Messenger across from him, Gabriel shifts, uncomfortable under his unblinking gaze. “I am _Death,_ why would I care about _Life_?” He returns to his meal once more. “I will not help you. I’d say goodbye to your loved ones. They won’t be here long.” He smiles slightly. “ _You_ won’t be here long.”

“Azrael.” The four of them shift at the deep voice, Gabriel’s golden eyes flit up to it’s owner, and he could have cried, he could have _bawled_. The Archangel of Death pauses, lowering his fork, looking over as a large figure sits between him and the Messenger, another, a youth, his nephew, sitting at the other’s side, reaching out for a breadstick. “I have something I want you to do.”

“Raphael.” Castiel finally intones, and the Healer turns to look at him, reaching for a breadstick of his own. “You’ve come.”

The Healer hums softly, biting off the tip of his breadstick, chews silently, and swallows. “I’ve grown rather attached to the flock of healers I have now.”

Azrael turns to look at the Archangel next to him. “Yes, what is this request you wish for me to do?”

Raphael hums, looking down at his breadstick for a moment, before his emerald eyes turn to look into his silver ones. “I want you to reap God.”

He dips his head slightly. “Yes, brother.” And looks back to his meal. “May I finish my meal first?”

The Archangel at his side nods. “You may.” And turns to the child at _his_ side. “Look over the menu, Isa, we can get supper while we’re here.” The Nephilim nods, a small brown hand reaching out for the menu in the middle of the table, pulling it back to him. “I want this, dad.”

Raphael hums softly. “Lasagna, good choice, my little one, I think I’ll get the same thing.”

Gabriel stares at them. “So, just like that, he tells you want he wants you to do, and you do it, no bargaining, no charges, you just do it.”

Azrael swallows his mouthful of noodles. “I don’t like you, that is why I made my charge, I am not ignorant enough to disobey an order from him, he does not take well to being disobeyed, and I prefer to sit comfortably.”

The Healer hums, raising his hand for the waitress to take their orders. “When we are done here, you will do what I told you, yes?”

“Yes, brother.”


End file.
